I warn you right now that this particular post might sound completely bizarre. People have told me that I'm being silly, I'm worrying over nothing don't seem to be able to understand my situation at how many times I explained to them. And maybe this is the best place for talkie about this particular problem but I can't think of a better one.
All my life creativity has been my passion, especially storytelling. My life's ambition is to be an author.
One day about seven years ago, my father was driving me home and he told me something he thought I would find interesting but it to me it was the most horrific thing I'd ever heard.
He explained to me this theory, apparently based on the work by Georg Cantor, that there is an immensely large but finite number of possible different books that can be written, because all books are made out of combinations of letters and words on a page so there must be a finite number of possible books that can be written.
If you could only put one letter in a book you would have a maximum 26 different possible books. And the way things are is simply a much larger scale of this statement.
I was crushed.
At first I desperately tried to challenge this theory but I'm not a scientist or a mathematician and by what relatively little I do know it seemed airtight. I sank into a deep depression, I avoided any thing to do with creativity and ended up spending countless hours slumped in a chair playing solitaire on my computer. As far as I was concerned my life was ruined forever and if I had to fight to stay alive I don't know if I would have bothered.
For me, writing meant a world of infinite possibilities, freedom from all constraints of reality and creating something that only you could create. My father's theory took all that away from me and such sucked all the happiness out of my life. To me, the theory says that everything I could ever come up with is simply part of a pre-existing set of possibilities and eventually no one will be able to write anything without it being an exact copy of something else and everything I do write will bring into little closer to that time. People keep telling me that this event is theoretically billions of years into the future but that makes no difference to me because it means the freedom and infinite possibilities of creativity is a lie and I can't be a writer with this lie hanging over me.
Yes I know the creative possibilities of man and infinite but in this case it doesn't matter because human language is not infinite. It doesn't matter if we keep coming up with new ideas and concepts if we have no means left to express them.
Eventually I drifted out of it, though I don't know how. I never came to terms with it, never found a way to challenge it or had some kind of epiphany. But a few days ago I had a relapse.
I don't have anyone to talk to about this situation.
My father is a fanatical believer in this theory, he hasn't the slightest flicker of doubt about it, won't even consider the possibility that it is just a theory. To him it is up there with gravity and the laws of thermodynamics. He keeps telling me how I can live with the theory but I find that unacceptable. He believes that creativity isn't about creating anything but rather finding gems that already exist.
My mother is no help either, she simply doesn't understand the theory of matter how many times I explain it to her. It's like it just goes in one ear and out the other. And I cannot begin to describe to you the frustration and rage I've been feeling trying to get them both to understand how I feel and why I feel it and getting nowhere.
my therapist isn't helping me much so far either, he said that he had never encountered anyone with this problem and that made me feel isolated and alone.
What I need to get over this is to know that certain that this theory is not true. I know that's a huge demand but that's what I need. I know this isn't the sort of place for discussing mathematical theories but I can't think of anywhere else to go. Unless you know of a forum where you can discuss theoretical theory is that make you very depressed.
Please don't tell me how I should live with it because I find this just too appalling. If this theory is true then I cannot be a writer and if I cannot be a writer I will be miserable for the rest of my life.